


Set Up and Caught (Red-Handed)

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Humor, M/M, hopeless madara, i have other things to work on, someone please stop me, tumblr drabble, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 04:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16926810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Madara's hopelessly in-like (and lust) with his best friend's little brother, and spilled the secret after an admittedly insane decision to compete with Hashirama in drinking. Now he's stuck dealing with his best friend playing match-maker.Or: Madara and Tobirama go on a mission together, and Madara nearly dies from how distractingly attractive Tobirama is.





	Set Up and Caught (Red-Handed)

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore how I should be updating other things.

If there was one thing Madara regretted most, in all his years, it was letting Hashirama convince him to go out drinking a few weeks prior. The damned Senju was 99% alcohol already, and hadn’t batted an eyelash at downing a bottle of shouchu.

Madara, on the other hand, hadn’t drank so much as a shot since the peace talks. It had been a sort of coping mechanism during the war - something he recognized as bad for several reasons, mainly how  _they were at war_ ; being impaired at any moment could be fatal.

That being said, choosing whisky as his poison, and letting himself be goaded into a drinking competition, had to be his second and third worst decisions.

He’d opened his big mouth and spilled everything. He might not remember that night (or much of anything from the next day, besides moaning and hurling his intestines into his toilet for hours), but he knew that knowing glint in Hashirama’s eyes.

And the too innocent smile given along with a stack of paperwork for him and Tobirama to work on. Together.

And the “subtle” wink when he was forced to sit next to his friend’s little brother at every single council meeting since.

He was going to smack Hashirama. Right atop his stupid head. As soon as they got home from their mission (which had been given to them with some mischievous giggling and a shake of a finger: “Make sure to get along, you two!”)

The last thing he wanted to do was pretend to get along with the man walking at his side, nose stuck in a map, white hair and fur rustling in the light breeze. Pretending to get along meant  _talking_ , and  _talking_ meant either lying or being entirely honest about how beautiful those ruby-red eyes looked when they lit up at a discovery, or how that quirk of a smirk made his heart pound and blood rush, how he wanted those long fingers tangled in his hair or curled around his own.

“We’re going the wrong direction.” Tobirama halted in the path, scowling at the map. He tilted it this way and that, seemingly trying to get his bearings. Madara walked back the few paces, peeking over at the scribbled lines Hashirama had handed to them - the drawing was crude and near juvenile, nowhere near the typical maps given on such high-ranked missions.

Madara pointed at what looked like a tree on the map, ignoring how his shoulder brushed against the taller man’s arm, even the slightest contact making him want to lean in closer for more. “Didn’t we pass a tree with a sign on it?”

“Idiot. That’s a house.” Tobirama frowned, pulling the parchment up until it touched his nose, squinting at the jumbled scribble. “Or a horse. For a farm?”

“There’s no farms for miles!” Madara pinched his nose, doing his best to stave off the growing pressure in his skull.

Tobirama rolled the parchment back up, not even glancing at his companion as he whacked the top of his head with it. “Exactly, idiot.  _We’re going the wrong direction_.” Madara’s sputtering went ignored as the Senju started walking back the way they came, and he gave up with a huff, stalking after him.

After another hour of walking, Tobirama pulled the map back out again, stopping with a hissed breath out of his clenched teeth. He muttered some curses, as well as what sounded suspiciously like a threat to throttle someone. It was a sentiment Madara sympathized with easily; Hashirama would be lucky to escape with his head at this point.

“Let me guess. You went in the wrong direction.” Madara brushed some dirt off of his armor, all too smug about the scathing glare he received from his smart remark. Riling up the other man shouldn’t be that much fun, but he couldn’t help it; getting any reaction out of the stoic bastard was just too good for his pride.

He didn’t get to hear the sharp retort sitting on the tip of Tobirama’s tongue. A cloud of mist rose around them, the telltale sound of a katana being unsheathed, and shuriken rained down around them.

Chakra pooled behind his eyes, sharingan spinning before the first projectile hit the ground. His fan had been passed over for the ease of travel, but his kunai would do. He drew three as he jumped back, losing sight of his companion but sensing him not a few meters away, allowing battle-instinct to override all else as three kiri-nin dropped near him.

His muscles sang with joy as he fought, despite knowing full well the shinobi wouldn’t require his full effort. He saw one pale at his feral grin, backflipping over them and snapping their neck before hurling a kunai into another’s solar plexus - choosing to fight two of Konoha’s best was already a fatal mistake, but fighting them  _without armor_  was downright suicidal. He retrieved his kunai, wiping it on his pants before standing back up. The mist had thinned out, enough so he could see with more than just chakra sensing. The  _deep-water-intense-focus_  he felt assured him Tobirama had not fallen, but he looked for him anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse before slaughtering the rest of these imbeciles.

What he saw has his breath catch, body stilling in awe and shock. There wasn’t one Tobirama; there was two. Back to back, arms arching, flowing through the air. Water pulled from the mist, weaponized, slashing through four kiri-nin thinking him at a disadvantage with their element. Face glistening in the light, eyes heated and sharp, the barest hint of white teeth bared at his enemies.

He was beautiful. Mid-battle, men falling around him, blood spattered on his armor, hair sticking to his cheeks. And there were  _two_ of him, one just as fierce as the next, working in sinc and  _dancing_ around his enemies.

Madara swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight, wanting to savor the moment and burn it into his memory. With his sharingan active, he would be able to recall this moment in perfect detail, and he only regretted not looking over sooner.

Both Tobirama suddenly snapped their heads his direction, red eyes widening in some unknown emotion; it occurred to him briefly that they might have spotted just exactly where all of his blood was rushing from watching them, but his armor covered that up quite nicely - what exactly had caught their interest seemed an utter mystery and entirely inconsequential to his lust-hazed mind.

“ _Get down, you idiot!_ ” The twin shouts registered, deep baritones just the slightest bit breathless and sending all the right images through his racing mind

He had the time to hear metal crashing into metal, and he hid the ground, the air knocked right out of him as both Tobirama barrelled into him. One raised up just enough, tossing a suiton jutsu of some sort to the spot he’d just been standing, felling the shinobi that had been set on killing him in his distraction.

Ah. Yes. They had been fighting. Fighting enemies.

Madara knocked his head back into the dirt, hoping the effort might rid the stupid out of his brain. He’d nearly died. He’d nearly just died from  _gawking_ in the middle of a  _mission_ , while  _fighting_.  _And Tobirama saw it happen._

“What were you  _thinking_?” One of the Tobiramas sat up on his chest, near shaking him. The other had moved off of him, but glared down at him with the same intensity, looking ready to cut his throat and end whatever madness had overcome him. And honestly, Madara was ready to let him.

“I can’t breathe with you on top of me.” His comment went unnoticed - or simply ignored; it was always hard to tell with Tobirama.

“Did you  _want_ him to kill you? Were you not paying  _any attention_ to your surroundings?” Tobirama leaned in close to him, and Madara stopped breathing, feeling the man’s nose brush against his own, anger and confusion whirling in those beautiful red eyes. “ _What is your_ problem _, Uchiha_?”

“Have dinner with me.” The words were blurted out before Madara could stop them, and were immediately followed by his horror spreading bright red across his face.

This. This was  _exactly_ why he didn’t want to associate with the man. Because his brain was stupid, and talking made him even  _more_ stupid, and that stupid crush of his was now going to be the death of him.

Which, considering it had nearly killed him only moments before, wouldn’t be that bad. Dying by Tobirama’s hands had to be better than someone else’s. Maybe.

The Tobirama on his chest leaned back, mouth agape and an odd noise of confusion tearing out of his throat. The one at his side cleared his throat, seemingly a bit more composed than the other.

“Perhaps we should discuss that at, ahhh, a more… Home. We’ll talk later. Mission, professionalism.” He coughed, and Madara managed to peek over at him before he popped, disappearing altogether.

Madara squirmed a bit, waiting for the real Tobirama to get off of him. Or say something. Or do  _anything_ besides stare at him with his mouth open.

“So…” Tobirama’s mouth snapped shut as Madara spoke up, his eyes finally focusing again. “Talk over dinner, or…?”

“Shut up, Uchiha!” There was little venom in his words, and the slightest tint of pink on his pale cheeks as he jumped off of him, storming off in a random direction.

Madara sat up, staring after him for a moment, letting everything sink in. He eventually stood up as well, following after the Senju at a much more sedate pace, in no hurry to catch up, still reeling from the  _feelings_.

Still, maybe Hashirama didn’t deserve that slap after all. After all, it looked like he might just have a dinner date when he got back home.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Anon on tumblr:
> 
> "Pre-slash or slash. Humor. Mission. Madara freezes. Tobirama uses Kage Bunshin and he does ClonSenju-Uchiha-Senju sandwich."


End file.
